


Two Sides, But Then Three

by orphan_account



Category: DanPlan, Video Blogging RPF, actuallyoddplan
Genre: AMR - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blank is a protective mother of her two co-leaders uwu, Blank the Leader, Coin flip, DanPlan - Freeform, Daniel is a little cinnamon roll, Fluff and Angst, Hailey - Freeform, Hosuh is confused bean, Jay is stressed mastermind, Love Triangles, M/M, Sci-Fi, Stephen is fucking tortured, actuallyoddplan - Freeform, cause screw you, head - Freeform, idk maybe most of the knife party members, the Sept Organisation, three sides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A coin flip. There are presumably two sides to it. But there's a third one, its rim. in that small chance, it could land on its presumed side or rim.Might not be for the Stosuh shippers sorry :,)Two organisations. Three sides. An attempt to extract powers, an attempt to stop it. And another.POV of 'Dark Night' Stephen Ng, and 'Apprentice' Hosuh Lee, and sometimes the others.The Sept Organisation, the AMR, and another anonymous one, yet has a name. 'Hailey'.Genre: Fantasy, Sci-fiUpdates: whenever I pleaseNo drama will be tolerated. I add who I please into this 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.Yes, Daniel is here, so is Jay. I do not want drama. I just want to write another book. [note 'another' hahaha I need sleep but maybe not]
Relationships: Hosuh Lee & Daniel Lim, Hosuh Lee/Stephen Ng, Jay Ko/Stephen Ng
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. Discovery

Shoes shift on a clean marble-white floor. The place bustles with activity, but the place still seems impeccably clean.

Sliver strands pokes from a tight short ponytail as he brushes them aside. The twist in his lips is untangled as he straightens his jacket, a cool black, the initials splayed across the front the word ‘AMR’. No one knows what it meant, as Dan had shrugged carelessly when he did turn to him, and he supposed it was not in their position to know.

“So, once you’ve finished the course, I think,” the Head turns to face the two boys, “you can officially become a member of AMR. Provided that you pass everything, listen to everything I say. Okay?” 

“Yes, sir!” Daniel nearly brings a salute up, yet refrains, albeit hardly. 

“Good.” Head pauses briefly to pat Dan lightly on his head, and distractedly smiles at Hosuh. It’s a kind yet tired one, which he knows must have been caused by countless nights up, among once which he caught Head reading notes sprawled all over his desk, his glasses glinting in the nightlight of his tableside lamp. He’d asked him why he was up, and told him concernedly to sleep. Probably he hadn’t listened, for they worked for the government. Hosuh loves AMR, but seriously, Head needs rest.

“Sir, have you been sleeping—?” Hosuh turns uncertainly.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really, don’t worry. Really.” He places emphasis on the last word, and gestures a small thumbs-up quickly, yet Hosuh still feels uncertain. 

“Okay… Sir, please don’t work so hard, even if it’s for AMR and the government,” Hosuh says gently, and Head nods in quick response absently. 

They walk past countless officials in the Department, yet everyone does not meet their eyes, and lower their heads in respect to the highest-up there is. Head nods curtly at them, and returns to speaking with Hosuh and Dan. “Know the rules, don’t speak to higher-ups unless they speak to you, which is technically nearly the whole of AMR. Do as you’re told and such—”

“Yeah, I know, we know—wait, sir, we’re considered lower than you, so we shouldn’t be actually talking to you now,” Dan says wittedly, and admittedly Hosuh has to stifle a grin at his cheek.

Head laughs, a gentle tinkling sound that pleases Hosuh’s ears. “Yeah, I guess, but you guys are an exception.”

Hosuh just has to smile at that.

They pass a corridor full of rooms on the 2nd floor, all decked with a plague at the top of the door labelling the door’s contains. 

Except the last one, at its very end.

It’s blank. Just a sliver rectangle at the top, almost no words. Only a single letter.

S.

Everything here is neat, in control, as precise as possible. They would never name a room just S. Unless there is something precious in there. Maybe they don’t want undercover terrorists to go into that room. 

The aura is pulling, captivating somehow, and through the frosted glass he thinks he sees a flash of purple and brown.

“Hosuh, you listening?” Head interrupts, unconsciously sliding in and blocking his view from that lone room at the end of the corridor. 

“Er- yeah.” Hosuh tears his eyes away from the pulling silence of the room, leaving it behind in his mind. Head smiles warmly at him, and Daniel laughs his bubbly laugh at the private joke Head had most likely shared, and Hosuh can’t help but feel guilty that he would’ve gone to that room and left his godfather and brother of sorts behind.

He tries to forget about it all day, but the flash purple-brown room stayed at the front of his mind, and when he went to bed.

<._.>  
Battered. Bruised. But he was alive. Even if he was going to be dead soon, whether it be another month, or within a day. It all depended on how much he’d torture him for information.  
Until maybe he snapped, and did something to him irreversible, damaging, scarring him for life. He honestly didn’t know, didn’t care. 

He only hoped he was doing the best and right thing for the Sept Organisation, and that they were safe.

<._.>

Good luck, Jay. I know you won’t listen to me. I told you he could fend for himself. But I know you’ll insist, run out even if I didn’t allow it. But just stay safe.

Blank words and Blank’s words ricochet. He grits his teeth, sets his jaw, lifts his chin. He needed him, no matter what she said. As Leader, she could be surreal at times. But the sense is that Blank allowed him to go for him.

He needs me. I need him. 

Jay’s fingers tighten over the ring on his ring finger, and his thumb caresses it slowly.


	2. Earl Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter one

Their eyes are like earl grey, darker bits swimming in those pools of grey, yet somehow also a dark blue at the same time, deep and cautious around him.

He does not make eye contact. He does not make a sound. He keeps his head down, keeps his gaze staring straight, not even twisting his wrists bound with rough ropes. 

His open wounds sting and throb like they are fresh. He’s so tired. Why hasn’t Denzer come in yet? He would, or he should, at this hour. Being the fucking Head and all. Fuck him. All he wants is him. And the rest of them.

He’s tired of screaming, tired of stopping them from ripping from his mouth in this soundproof fucking room and this fucking place and everything about this place gives him the fucking creeps. He hates it so much, he wants to escape, he needs to escape, but it’s impossible with the ropes and chains that link his ankles to the wall. The stupid wounds burn and hurt too much, and blood’s sticky on his forehead. He doesn’t have anything with him. They took the ring.

They took the ring.

They took it. They want his power.

They want to take him away from him again. He won’t let them. He would never let them.

_I’ll be strong for him. For them else._

The boy? Girl? He doesn’t know, they seem to be male. They survey him with undiluted horror. He feels their gaze travel over the bleeding wounds Denzer cut into him, feel it dig at certain bruises he hit, feel the gaze stop at the brutally tight chains and ropes that bite into his skin, cutting off circulation.

“I—” He hears, but it is soft, and the person has their bangs falling halfway across his face, being too short to be swept with the rest into a short ponytail. He seems kind. But he’s sure he isn’t. Who is kind if they worked _here_?

Where’s Denzer? 

“Can…can you talk?” He leans towards me. He almost laughs bitterly, but he realises that he can’t. The person scrutinises him, and their glance burns him. _They’ll hurt me like he has, won’t he? I’ve seen him before, to think about it. With Denzer._

_Laughing._

Fuck. What’s they gonna do to me now?

He stays silent. 

“Hello?” Their voice calls uncertainly to me. He wants to spit, wants to say _leave me the fuck alone._ He wants to say just kill me already. 

_But I can’t leave him alone. I need to persevere._

“Can you?” the voice is soft. They approach him closer. He feels their small hand on his shoulder. “Surely he can’t be—?” Hushed tone.

 _Dead_ , the unspoken word says, but they would surely had known by his shoulder’s warmth that he is, in fact, not that. 

Then he feels soft fabric on the wounds. They sting, but not as much, and he turns to look despite his obligations. 

They’re ripping their shirt, cleaning up the blood, grasping parts of his limbs gently. He’s too numb to feel shock, but he watches their fingers skim over the scattering of bruises, kneeling beside him on the blood-stained ground, of his blood.

Their hand runs through the nest of his hair, the brown tint fading off the tip, the purple probably showing at the roots. He sees their face, glowing with innocence and purity. He doesn’t know. Really. He wishes everything is black and white. He wished he knew immediately what is good or bad. _What do I do now?_

He watches them passively.

The scraps of material are collected in their arms, and they look at him. 

“I’m not your enemy, S.”

_S?_

They think that that’s his real name. Because of that label. 

And they leave.

He watches them leave.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.” He hears their last words before the door slams shut on the outside world, keeping him in and out from the rest.

<>

Hosuh slips out, a quick underhand and the scraps are thrown into a bin just outside. He hears the door swing shut behind him, and he looks around for passing officials. Seeing none, he sprints back to the dorm. Dan is sleeping when he comes, on his stomach, shirt lifted to reveal an expanse of white skin, mouth gaping.

Hosuh stops, but decides not to wake him up, despite his apprehension and disbelief. He better be awake in the morning. Maybe he’ll tell him then. 

He collapses on his bed, and tries to sleep, but the man-boy that seemed to be around 18 years of age stays in his head just like before, his ruby red eyes an unnatural colour to his blue-grey, and his brown-tinted purple hair and side undercuts, and his silent aura, and the marks inflicted upon him like marks of torture. Why would they keep him in there like that, not at least in a sick bay? Was that fricking blood on the ground?

And why would the mysterious boy nearly flinch when he’d reached forward?

The man stayed in his mind all night, and moonlight cast shadows across his body as Hosuh thinks he sees his face yet again.

He is oddly handsome.

And Hosuh thinks he dreamt of the angular features, the wistful face. 

<>

Jay plunges his hand into the earth, the soil piling around his fist. The electricity bolt returns, and Jay soaks in its power and information, thinking, scheming still. The bolt had been purple, that brilliant vibrance of a hundred violets, the hue he loves most. 

_AMR is that way,_ the bolt whispers to him, and Jay nods absently to it, looking around. 

Stephen? 

Are you there?

He receives no reply, but that is only expected. The ring sits safely on his ring finger, and its steady warmness calms him, the material they’d chosen together, his laugh a blessing on the wind, his hair spilling over a ruby eye. “What are you doing?” he giggled as Jay placed nearly thirty on each finger, even if they were mostly holograms. He even hung one on Stephen’s nose, and watched as he went cross-eyed to bring it out. He knew Blank pretended not to see, but he saw the flicker of a smile flash behind her red bangs.

 _They had better not hurt him. They had better_. Jay swallows the fury that rises, born from a desire to protect. 

_I will hurt them if they hurt him._

Jay touches the metal-handled knife in his rucksack, and goes on his way, the words ‘AMR’ decked on a building just visible over the treetops of the forest he is in.


	3. A, the First Letter of a Scream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2

The girl stands. She’s young, a mere 17, younger than her two brothers, respectively 19 and 22. She hasn’t seen them in ages, but she finds that she doesn’t care much. The tiny vial sits safely on her chest on a necklace, and she will protect it with her life if it came to that. 

“How is it?” she speaks for the first time in a while, and another girl beside her gives a start.

“AMR’s preparing. Sept, I don’t actually know, it’s really hard to lull them. That man, that lightning one, he’s impossible to penetrate even with my power turned up max,” she tells the girl, brushing her brown locks off the expanse of her face. 

“I know, Moka,” She sighs, and she doesn’t turn. “Jay Ko is too strong.”

“What do you suggest then?” Another voice speaks, and another person steps from the shadows, aqua hair, cropped so that curls frame their face and hide a pair of glasses in the mess of hair on top of their head. They look toward the girl.

The girl closes her eyes. “I don’t know, Double. I just want them safe. Even how much they hurt me.”

<>

A, the first letter of a scream. Hosuh wakes up screaming, the dream ripping away, the confusing blur of colours seeping away, the horror dissolving. Dan is by his side in a instant, staring concernedly down at him, blocking the light that glares down upon him, but he still has to squint to see Dan’s outline.

“Are you okay?” Daniel says concernedly. Hosuh’s head throbs with the remnants of the dream, much too vivid, but untraceable now. 

“Bad dream?”

“More than that.” Hosuh rubs his temple. His mind strays back to the man with the purple locks with fading brown, his wounded face. He thinks he dreamt of him.

“Huh. Eat anything strange yesterday?”

Hosuh forces a painful grin. “Nah, don’t think so.”

“Come on, Head might be waiting.” Dan turns.

“Daniel, wait—” Hosuh says suddenly, the happenings of yesterday on his tongue. 

“Yeah?” the green boy stops.

Hosuh pauses, then says, “Nothing. Let’s go.”

Daniel takes his hand, and Hosuh gets dragged behind the overeager younger, wondering if he should have told him, but something told him no. 

<>

S looks up as Hosuh slips in again. He notices he looks a bit more cut up, but other than that he looks okay for someone that seems halfway to death. 

“Ya okay?” Hosuh says quietly, but there’s no response from S, not that he is expecting one, but any response would have been fine, though the other just stares at him blankly, hair falling forwards.

He sighs, and he moves forward with the appropriate cloths and first-aid kit he’d snagged when the medical officials weren’t looking. Not stealing, of course, just borrowing. Borrowing.

He’d never borrowed before, but S unknowingly pushed him to do things he would have never done.

Hosuh squats, and he begins to clean up S’s wounds.

The fresh blood is wiped away, and Hosuh pulls out antiseptic. S visibly flinches at the tiny bottle, and Hosuh pours a little of it into a wad of cotton.

“Hang on, this might hurt a bit—” S looks away as Hosuh presses the cotton to the cuts, and hisses escape his mouth every move he made with the cotton.   
Hosuh finishes up, washing the open wounds with just water ever so gently, moving it slightly, pausing when S shifts in pain. His bangs hang over half his face as he works, and he has to jerk his head slightly to get it out of his vision.

“Done.” Hosuh drops the blood-stained cotton wads into a white plastic bag, tying it with an efficient twist of his hand, looping it tight with a fluid motion.

Hosuh looks again at S. He stares at him, as blank as ever, just a sheet of nothing across his face. 

_I guess he really can’t talk._

Hosuh stands up and turns to leave.

But before he reaches the door and can push open the door, something rings.

( _My name,_ ) Hosuh doesn’t hear, but feels it ring in his head, as though something is right in his brain, ( _Is Stephen._ ) 

And Hosuh turns in astonishment and overwhelming surprise, because _did he just talk in my head—_ S- Stephen, he knows now what S stood for, sits on the ground, wrists bound, eyes glowing a bright bright red. His fire gaze drills itself into his own dull blue grey ones, and Stephen flicks out his tongue for a flash before it escapes back to the cave of his mouth. But not before Hosuh realises, with horror, that it is cut in half, still bloodied.

_He can’t possibly speak._

_So how did he-?_

( _I am Stephen, I have telepathic powers, and judging from that reaction you’ve never heard of our kind before._

_(Hosuh Lee, I want you to know the truth about what exactly happens in here. In this fucking hellhole._ )

<>

Somehow the telepathic voice Stephen has calms him. It makes him wonder what his voice was like before AMR cut his tongue.

_You can hear my thoughts?_

( _Yea, no shit, that’s how I know your name,_ ) Stephen throws at Hosuh.

“Wow, that’s actually really weird.”

( _You haven’t seen the rest yet._ )

“I still don’t believe you.” Hosuh says slowly.

( _You will._ )

“Denzer isn’t even Head’s real name,” Hosuh stresses, “It’s Johnathan.”

( _How are you sure?_ ) Stephen raises a heightened eyebrow.

“But what I do believe, is that they did this to you. Maybe- maybe he didn’t know about this—”

( _He did. He did._ )

“No he didn’t,” Hosuh says stubbornly. “He would never.”

( _Fine, if you want to be like that._ ) They glare for a single second.

“I’ll free you, I promise,” Hosuh whispers eventually. “I do believe you.” He’d seen sometimes the savages in their eyes, but they would disappear after a while.

( _When will you-?_ )

Hosuh smiles grimly. “Now.”

He slides down again, landing on his knees and sitting on his legs. His quick fingers somehow free the dead knots and the ropes fall to the ground, leaving concerning red marks on his wrists. Hosuh also knows the basic technique for lock-picking somehow, and he cannot remember how, but the locks break at the ball-and-socket. His fingers sting a bit, but that is only expected considering the absence of a single lock-picking tool like a pin.

“Come on,” Hosuh holds out a hand. “We’ve got places to be.”

<>

“No, no, no, no…” Denzer whispers. “No no no!”

“Where’ve they gone, sir?”

“He’s left!” Denzer growls. “With the subject.

“You can send some guys there after them. But- please, try and _kill_ them this time around.”

The other is uncertain. “I thought you wanted to use S?”

“No, I want you to _murder_ Dark Night, and that so-called _Apprentice_. They oppose me, and I do not like that.”

“Call Dan to my office, won’t you? I have to talk to him, alone.”

“Find Blank,” a distant voice seems to say, far off, a tsundere tang, a vibrant hue of purple even in midair. “Or maybe she’ll find us.”

Denzer smiles at that. Technology never fails him, unlike _certain Apprentices he put his trust and dedication in_ , like a son. 

A son he may’ve never had.


	4. Teeth, Lightning, and All Things Sharp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3

_“Hey.”_

_Jay doesn’t look back, but the gentle weight on his shoulder and the soft puffs of breath beside his ear, soft locks brushing the side of his face, tells him it's Stephen._

_“Mhm, let me finish this first.”_

_“Come on, The Great Stephen requires attention, dear sir,” he laughs, tilting his head until his giggles resonate in Jay’s sensitive ears._

(Goddamit, Jay, stop for a second, I bet you’ve done coding the whole day,) _Stephen tells him telepathically._

_“Just a bit longer.” Jay licks his lips, lifting his squarish glasses, leaning forwards to the screen._

_Scoffing, Stephen, wrapped around Jay, steals the specs propped on Jay’s head and wears them, blinking._

_“Hey!” Jay says indignantly, but continues tap tap tapping at the computer. He finishes pressing the slash button, saves the file, then shuts the computer._

_“Now give back my glasses,” Jay glares at Stephen, him unfocused and blurred. Stephen laughs brightly as he whips off the glasses and waves it in the air, Jay swiping at the air but failing to snatch the glasses back._

_Jay’s forced to stand as Stephen tries to run from him, but he grabs his wrist, pushing him against the wall. There’s a heated moment where Stephen stares up at him, a faint tint of red blossoming on his face, tiredness-ridden. Then Jay picks the pair of glasses from the other’s slender grip._

_Stephen spits slightly and squawks a little at the annoying height distance. “You’re lucky you’re just a bit taller than me, you ass.”_

_“More like a lot taller, Steph.”_

_“Shut up, idiot.”_

_Jay slides the glasses onto his face, and Stephen finally comes into focus. Jay suddenly grasps at the other’s hand and feels him flinch at the touch._

_“You’re injured. Again.” Jay sighs._

_“It was particularly hard for training today.” Stephen tells him._

_He brings the younger’s hand up and closely observes the bruises and cuts on his arm, and undoubtedly on the other as well._

_“Bring the first-aid kit over,” Jay speaks out, and the compartment falls open, a kit falling into his other outstretched hand._

_“Even if you’re the one who trains physically, not me, you gotta be more careful.” He says, taking out antiseptic, which Stephen groans audibly at, having way too many bad encounters with the liquid._

_Sometimes he resents Blank for training Stephen so hard, but he knows he needs to be the strongest there is, so does he, to co-lead this organisation._

_He’s got to ask Cran more about technology’s history._

<—0—>

Christine and Eron stride down the halls of AMR.

“Hey, Christi, you know, are you the sun? ‘Cause you’re freakin’ hot.” Eron winks exaggeratedly.

“No.” Christine shoots back, eyes on the clipboard in her hands. “The sun’s much more than a meter away from you, and you’ll probably be dead by now.” Eron laughs, sidling up to her shoulder. “Don’t be like that. Come on, just a peek—"

Lightning knocks both out before Christine gives a valid retort.

Jay sweeps the fallen clipboard up, flicking at the pages, speed-reading.

_Subject: S (supernatural)_

_Also Known As: Dark Night_

_Situated in Room [redacted], where Head conducts essential checks for the subject in order to extract needed information._

The rest of the page was either blank or covered with long lengths of black censor rectangles.

Jay tucks that one in his bag. He removes the scientist’s coat, swinging it efficiently around himself and it fits just right. He banishes the scientists into a white cupboard conveniently located with a few bolts of lightning, the cupboard swinging shut quietly with a soft click.

Jay has to search the whole building for Stephen.

He encounters a couple of rogue scientists around the corner, who wrongly assume himself being one of them, ignoring him as he strides confidently past them, pulling out the clipboard and covering some part of his body by holding it to his chest. He peeks in corridors, pushing open some by a nanometre and letting them close again.

Where was he?

_Fucking hell, he’s going to kill some motherfuckers._

The Launcher sits safely in the bottomless bag Ann had given him before she died.

Jay’s fingers and hands ache to pull it out.

He espies some rather much more threatening people following him. He turns a corner, these people follow, as well as this single man. He seems that he just became an adult, 20-so years old. Blue hair falls over an eye, and his undercut reminds him of his partner.

He squeezes the ring in luck. And then he drops the clipboard suddenly, undoing the clasp at the bag, drawing the Launcher out, pulling the trigger squarely on one of the people. They jerk back as if shot, though there had been no sound, dropping, blood welling in a small wound hole on their forehead.

Jay manages to fire his Launcher on two other stalkers, before the blue-haired man somehow causes the gun to drop from his hand. His hand feels as though it has been stung. He holds it for a split second, but then flings out his other hand, sending a bolt at the man, but he dodges easily. The man grins, but Jay sees apprehension behind his purple eyes that somehow keeps bringing him back to Stephen.

“I’m afraid I cant let you just shoot our workers, Jay.” He says, and Jay sees him levitate slightly off the ground.

Then quieter, more helpless. “ _He_ doesn’t let you.”

Then dark engulfs the man whole. Jay watches in diluted horror as the man changes, into some sort of a human figure, skin yet completely black, sucking all light to it, eyes white with no pupils. Yet impossibly the thing keeps his blue hair, but his eye glows white under the cover of cobalt.

Jay unleashes lighting, throwing his arms straight at the thing, and the thing converts it and shoots it back, turning an electric blue from its usual warm yellow. Jay looses a curse as he is forced to roll to avoid the bolt.

Jay throws a distraction bolt at the thing and throws another from the opposite side as the thing turns to counter the bolt, which finally hits the thing. Whereas when a single bolt would have knocked out a normal human, it merely seemed slightly hurt, hissing, then swooping down, swirling around Jay. Jay lashes a bolt in annoyance, but it misses and hits a glass panel, shattering it to tiny smithereens.

_“My, you came by, just like Head promised.”_

Jay grips a bolt and swings, but the thing dodges it again.

_“Another person to possess.”_

Then the thing flies into him. Right into him. He gasps, falling to his knees. Then his consciousness is _pushed back_ , somehow, and his consciousness watches the thing take his bodily controls and fiddle with it.

‘Stop!’ he wants to yell, but all he hears is just an alluring voice, and it says, “ _Jay, submit._ ”

“ _Submit._ ” It’s oh so tempting to just lean into the mist, stop thinking, surrendering himself, surrender all controls—

No.

His consciousness struggles, and he thinks softly at first, then louder. ‘No. No. No!’

_“Stephen!”_ He yells out, and he hears the thing beside his ear.

“Huh. You’re stronger than I thought. But you’re using the wrong thing for strength. Dark Night is unworthy of you, Jay Ko, Light Wielder. He’s,” the thing pauses, and then Jay hears simple murderous contempt.

“Frankly absolutely _evil_.”

“He murdered my spirit. If it wasn’t for Head, I would have given the fuck up. He doesn’t ever care for you, Light Wielder. He never cares for anyone.”

“And he’s not in the premises. He escaped with some filthy betraying Apprentice. And by the way, it’s GNG. My name.”

Then the presence is gone.

Denzer stands in front of him, smirk in place, hands placed neatly behind him, looking down at him slumped on the floor. A boy looks from behind, around his own age, while sort-of bodyguards backed Denzer up.

The boy catches his eye, green hair the colour of the freshest apples they were taught had existed. He looks scared, uncertain.

He holds an automatic syringe-and-needle.

There’s a clear substance in it. Jay wonders what it did, and whether he should believe that thing’s words. Was he really gone? With someone else?

The next parts will be easy if he just decides what he wants to do.

“Hello, Co-Leader. How kind of you to visit.” Denzer tells him, hidden sarcasm evident.

“Hello, son of a bitch.” He tells Denzer back, tone polite.

Denzer decides to ignore that statement. “I would have welcomed you properly had you just told me you were coming, but I guess that communication must have been impossible, through that Wall.”

“Nah,” Jay glances down, standing up, swinging the fallen Launcher down beside his thigh, the lab coat sliding down his body, revealing the bandanna wrapped around his neck, and the loose jacket unbuttoned halfway, and down the length the gentle curve of his forearm _‘SEPT’_ is etched as a tattoo.

He inspects his look, then looks up with a savage smile. “I would have decapitated you with this Launcher as soon as you appeared at my door, though.”

Denzer’s face darkened. ‘I though you would at least show me some semblance of respect, but I guess that can’t be expected of supernatural trash.”

He laughs coldly. “Catch him.”

The bodyguards close in while Jay observes Denzer bends down to tell the boy something, seizing the syringe-and-needle for a brief second, speaking something quietly to the boy, who nods quickly at his words, but his actions are also jerky.

Jay fathoms the uncertainty of the boy, then holds a bolt, swinging it to the side, smashing the window.

“See ya, suckers!” Jay yells, then climbs over the ledge and jumps down below. He lands perfectly among the trees and runs off.

The bodyguards turn to Denzer for instructions.

Denzer smiles. “Let him go. Your colleagues are hunting the other two. But Daniel will help us find justice, won’t he?”

Dan doesn’t say anything in particular, but clutches the syringe tighter. He bites his lip.

“It’ll save Hosuh, I promise, from that sadistic boy you saw, Jay Ko. It’ll save him. All you need to do is to stick it in. Okay? Hosuh might resist because he’s been brainwashed by Dark Night and kidnapped by Ko, but for his good, you _have to_ inject this into him.”

Head’s tone is soft, encouraging.

Dan hesitates, then finally nods.


	5. Hailey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 4

_2134\. The Great Revolution Against Supernaturals, on 3rd [redacted], 1:21_ _am_

  
  
_Blank holds Stephen and Jay in her arms, dirty._

_Stephen and Jay are sleeping. They are only seemingly 13 and 15, tired out, like kids their age are. Their bodies are streaked with soot and burn marks. Blank herself is no better, and she lifts an occupied hand to blow out a small fire that burns on a ragged sleeve._

_Blank_ ‘tch’ _s at the burning house, and the other burning houses that she’d seen everywhere._

_She’d managed to save quite a few children and adults alike._

_She didn’t manage to save everyone._

_Blank watches with a furrowed brow as the house of the Ngs burns down, the fire a startling red-gold in the night, consuming all within reach._

_Consuming Stephen Ng’s parents, consuming his younger brother and sister. She regrets not being able to save the children._

_Blank turns her back on the house._

The children won’t remember this. Besides, I have to take care of Hosuh.

<>  
Hailey has the antidote strung around her neck. She protects it with her life.

<>

Dan tails Jay desperately. Ko seems to know his way so much easier and better than him. He would reappear, sometimes nearer to him, then _whoosh_ , he’s gone again, only to reappear miles ahead, just an orange blob in the distance and foliage of the Forest that is the barrier between AMR and supposedly the Sept. Ko seems to slip easily and purposefully through the Forest. It’s a myth, however, but it is said that the forests were enchanted by the supernaturals themselves, and the Wall that they built, to keep all government and AMR officials out and away. 

Daniel swears that the Forest plays tricks on him. There were no animals after the Turnaround (where all animal life except human was terminated), but there are sounds of wildlife in there. He whirls when chittering sounds right beside his ear, to see nothing. Or maybe it’s just the eeriness of the Forest, the mysteries unveiled to him and him only, trying to drive him away and out. The only point he has is Ko, who he catches sight of every few minutes and follows. 

His mind cannot tell the difference in mind sounds and the surrounding sound after what must have been a whole day, 24 hours. Once he feels the slap of a wing on his cheek, but he deems it his vivid imagination, even as his cheek stings and throbs. Many times he hears the whispers of people who tell him to get out. _Now._ He stumbles. He preservers. 

He sees a white-grey stone wall. Ivy grows its length. 

_The Wall._ Daniel sees it for himself. It extends to who knows how high, no passage seen, no door. He sees Ko lean towards it, stroking it, tilting his head directly toward the stone. Then he disappears.

_Impossible._

Then giant claws grip his back and slam him towards the ground. 

All he thinks is _oh god, I’m in danger_ as a gigantic thing looms above him, what they said were called feathers across its whole body, the mythical creature known as an Eagle, but much much bigger. 

He has to fight this humongous thing.

<>

“Where are we going?” Hosuh asks.

Stephen barely glances his way as they trek through the jungle. (Sept, of course, need you ask even?)

“Uh, I don’t know about you, but is it not safe to just openly walk to the Sept place? Won’t they follow? And is that safe?”

(We have precautions,) is all Stephen shows Hosuh.

“How would you stop them if they’re following us?”

(The Wall, obviously,) Stephen scoffs to Hosuh, soft breaths a hint of a snort. (It literally defends Sept from unwanted outsiders. It deals with them in an… odd way.)

“Outsiders like me.” Hosuh deadpans unintentionally.

(May-be.) Stephen drags the word out in Hosuh’s mind, the word strong and lasting till its end. 

“Son of a truck’s mother.” Hosuh blows out his cheeks, releasing the air like a balloon. 

(I don’t have a mother. Or a father. Or siblings. I trust that you don’t, too.) Stephen shows, and it’s extremely flat.

Hosuh sucks in a breath, and then sighs. “You’re right.”

Stephen stops and turns to the other. (No one around our age has family. Barely any, anyway.)

The ominous statement frightens him, but Stephen doesn’t seem to mind the words he showed. 

(There are villages around here and outside this Forest, but they reject everyone. They hate both the governmental AMR and the Supernaturals Sept so they throw out all spying officials they find and burn all supernaturals at the stake for being _‘witches’_. Like back in the 20th century or something.)

“Pretty sure that’s the 17th century, not the 20th century.”

(History’s boring. But of course there is a village that completely supports AMR’s purpose and another which helps Sept. It’s the Wehx village. They hide us sometimes if the villagers decide they want to hunt witches.)

“But what is AMR’s purpose?” Hosuh voices out loud. He’d always wondered what exactly they were doing, all the scientists, all the workers, all the bodyguards that defend the building premises. But he had Head and Dan, and he had cared much less than right that moment.

(I…) He falters at Hosuh’s bright questioning face, a literal sun. (Can’t tell you.)

“What? Why?”

(Not my place. Blank tells me to bring you to her.)

“Your telepathy goes _that far?_ And who’s Blank?”

Stephen refuses to say any more, much to the disappointment and subsequent pestering of Hosuh throwing questions at him. He refuses to tell him anything even when he pauses for five minutes and tries again. 

Then somewhere through Stephen holds up a frantic hand, snapping his head up, tensing his muscles, pushing a confused Hosuh behind him suddenly. 

(Shhh. Something’s here. Something.)

They freeze, Hosuh stuck behind Stephen, his body warmth a toaster, and for once Hosuh doesn’t mind sweating. 

Something dark whips through the trees and vanishes. Hosuh gasps slightly in shock, then stops himself. 

They hold their breath.

And then Hosuh feels something cold, something downright intrusive, wrong even, slam into his back. He screams high, flying forward and knocking Stephen over, the cold an unwelcome stark contrast to the Dark Knight’s comforting warmth, and it envelopes him, and it is him and he is it—

_Hosuh_ , the thing says, and they are in his consciousness, the front seat. Hosuh trembles, his consciousness gripping tight to the controls. 

_Let me control you. Wouldn’t it be nice if you just stopped doing anything, stopped taking the front in action? I could help with that._

_Hosuh, Hosuh, Hosuh. Hosuh, please._ The thing asks, and the controls are loose in his conciousness’s hands. 

It sounds good. 

The thing takes the controls from him, and Hosuh watches himself from the backseat.

He sees himself lunge for Stephen’s neck. 

‘No!’ he tries to say. He’s way too weak to wrestle back the controls from the thing as he tries to resist but nothing happens. 

Stephen picks himself up, face shocked, eyes trailing his own eyes, and digs at a place where Hosuh presumes are his pupils. Then S’s eyes go slack with determination, and he turns. With a swift movement he backhands Hosuh’s possessed body, glancing his face, a dull heat probably rising. Hosuh feels nothing from the hit. 

The body teeters back, but it straightens itself back, lunging at Stephen again. He grabs its wrist and kicks it viciously in the stomach, and when it doubles over he swings a fist to its face. It doesn’t drop to the ground but latches an arm to Stephen’s fist, pulling itself up, the other hand a vice around his neck, which Stephen tries to pry from his skin—

_(Fuck you!)_ he hears the hiss in his mind, and he kicks both legs at the body as it holds him in a strangling hold, pressing onto his windpipe—

The body budges little, but Stephen still has sufficient breath as he swings a roundhouse kick to the body’s abdomen. The strength of the kick is evidently strong. The possessed body is forced to let go and it flies to the side. Stephen sucks in a noisy breath, and then he walks and slaps the body's face.

A light whoosh, and Hosuh’s suddenly back to the controls.

_Damn you, Ng._ A demonic whisper. He’s too hurt to care what it said. 

(What are you? Why do you want to kill me?) Stephen shows.

Then there’s nothing. Nothing except the rapidly forming dark bruises on his midriff and face, and Stephen who winces at the battle wounds he gave and the fingermark bruises on his neck. 

Hosuh lifts his shirt and lightly touches the bruises, but recoils as they throb as hell.

“Wow, you can really fight and pack a punch.”

(Thanks. I trained. And did punch-packaging.)

“Full of delightful jokes and sarcasm too.”

(Shut up.)

“What was that thing?”

Stephen scoffs. (You’re asking _me?_

(Say, what’s that?)

Hosuh sees where Stephen is pointing at. It’s a rip across his forearm, an electric blue.

It says ‘GNG’.

Hosuh squeezes it in confusion while Stephen furrows his brow slightly.


	6. [interlude] H̷̜̔͌̅́è̴̠̤̦͒͑l̴̢̆͊͜p̵̙̙͕̃̓ ̴̬́͘m̸̢̡̳̃̋͘e̸͉̠̘̳͛̓

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude 1

________________

I know this is weird. Absolutely.

I can't control him. I mean, the other side of me. My split. He's the demon. He wants to kill Stephen.

But I won't allow him.

He has the power of possession, and the power of turning anyone's power against themselves. He's powerful. I don't have a superpower myself.

All I want is to reunite Emily and Stephen and myself. I don't care for AMR. I don't care for Sept. Heck, I don't even care about Hailey.

I don't care that Stephen abandoned us. I don't care that Emily left me when she fled from AMR. I don't care that I was left helpless to my spilt personality for him to take over.

I want them to be safe. Only for them to be safe. As middle child, I wish that.

I also wish that Em would stop being sceptical of me, and Stephen to somehow remember me, but I don't think that's practical because all he knows of me is my other half.

Heck. I hate everything about 2152. No, this whole century. I hate it.

I wish there were some other reality where we lived all together, probably influencers or whatever they call technology users back then.

So I hope somehow, whoever's reading this, that you could help.

I have enchanted this letter such that it cannot be destroyed by my other half, courtesy of Jlin. She isn't bad like the others.

She might die soon, from Head's experiments, but she's useful. Head might use her for a while, so I've got plenty of time to bail me and all the good ones out.

My other half's side? No one's. I think his goal is to kill Stephen and not rest till it is done.

I need to kill my split off. Someway, somehow.

Hope you could help. I've dropped this in a portal of sorts. My half could try and destroy it, but he will never succeed.

Even if he probably knows everything I do and think.

I wish I knew how Stephen is doing. I wish I knew why Emily ran from AMR. But I guess some secrets are for some people only.

Formal regards,

_Gavin Ng_

_AMR Facility_

_Middle child of the Ng siblings_

N̵̢̧͖̱̉̑̅̈ḛ̴́͆͛v̵̙̋ë̷̝̖̙̥r̶͔̘̼͉̾ ̸̩́̾h̴̫͕͎̍͒ě̸͍͐ḷ̴̢̡̹̍̓̀͠p̵̡͍̙̦̅́̔͘ ̷̛̖̼h̷̥́͠i̶͇͚̩̣͂͛̄͂m̴̙̯̎̆̆ͅ ̵̻̰̀̌͋͝h̸͓͙̻̃ẹ̸̭̰̺̏̔̚'̶̘̥͆̿̚s̵̛̱͌ ̶̠͍̺̔̓͘t̵̛͖͓͖̻̓̕h̶̝̐́ë̴̗͎͌͐ͅ ̶̺̺̺̏̀̀̏ḇ̶͔̙͋͒̓̈a̸̙͚̍̎̉d̶͖̱̗̦̕ ̴͎̰̏̂̓͑͜o̴̹̔͘n̴͍̆̅̒è̸͚͗̅ ̴̨̬̺̰̈́̇ȋ̶͚̰̙͑͠n̷̢͉̻͖̐́̽̔ ̷͈̆̎̓ẗ̷̞́͘h̵̻͖͌̎̂i̴̭̣͉̇̕s̷͇̠̤̳̍͗͠ ̴̢̬̋̀̀͝ŝ̴̝͔̪t̵͔̥͚̾̍o̶͉̮̙͙̿̿̅́ŗ̸̠̗͛́̓y̸̜͇̾͒͐̌ ̴͈̪͊̕d̴̞̻̼͙̏̎̀̈́õ̶̗̑ ̶̖͈̐̇n̵̛̟̗͆̚o̵̝̱͋̑̾̐t̴̫̭̓̐͊ ̵̻̩̇I̸͇̖̓͝ͅ ̵̨̩̈́̏r̴̢̲͉̂̉͛̈́ẹ̸̢̝̀̀̋́p̸̮̤̒̇́͑ę̸̲́a̶̢̲̖̗͆̚t̵͕̗̿̈́̕ ̴̜̲̜̝̈̇ṅ̸͖̞̤̗͒O̷͙͉̹̍̿͐̅ ̷̧͙̤̺̅͂d̴̡̥̰̀ơ̵̞̦̊n̸̩̹̮͆T̴̠̣̬̽͆͆͜ ̶̳͂̈́̄̂ṕ̵͓̭l̶̡̛̺̝̥̐̒E̵̛̩̔͐A̵̝̳̟͛s̴̘͕͙̝̎̄̆͒ȩ̷̗̲̦͒̆͠ ̵̞͍͍̓̆f̵̻̭͛͂o̵̼̗͔̔̀͊Ŕ̸͎̬̟̠̉ ̵̦̫̌͒̓͊o̵̤̅̅̏͠u̵͓̙͔̐̌R̷̻̱͒̐̃͑ ̷̤̿̕s̵̡̯̝̎́̚â̴̗̰̓K̸̡̢̛̼̂E̶͔̺̼̾͒s̸̻͖͖͌́̂̉͜

D̶̢̨̨̞͙̗̹̠̗̬̮̬̫͇̙͖̲̲̠̗̟̪̟̥̻̱̖̹͕̜̻̓̂̉̈̑̊̄̅̊̀̀́͊̓̈́͘͜Ǫ̴̢̢̛̛̛̛̝͖͖̜̮̟̺͓̜͈͔̱͙̩͖̖̟̦͈̪̬͕̝͇̩͎̹͉̘̺̪̜̫͓̦͛͊̎̅͋̀̋̔̃́͆̾̋̍̈́͑̎̊̉̓͐̈́́̽̋́́̀̈́̍̅̄͂̌̏̃̇̍͌̀̆̄̏̈́̍̑̅̂̈̀͛̏̿̎̅̄̆͛́̑̍̑̊̆͌̍̓̎́͑͑̍̐͊͂̈́̔̆̒̆͐̓͊̓̽̀̋͆̽̐͊͘͘̕̕͘̕̕͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝N̸͉̮͇̖̬̰̠͉̱̘̞̩̪̙̯̪̳͍̱̭͙̠̳͓̿́̑͆͐̾̾̈́̊̍̇͌̿́̾͌́̀̉̾͆̀̓̇̂̎̒̄̾̈́̏̚͘̕'̸̧̨̡̨̛͈͔̝̖̟̺̼̩̟̪͙̰̘̜͍̰̞̻̗̠͙̰̝͐͌̾̀͐̽͒͌̎́̒̓̑̋̌͒̈́̉͌͋͆̄͛̈́̔́̉̾̄͒̉͋̎̓̉̄͗̔̿̍̒̌̆̆̚̚̚̕͝͠͝T̵̡̼̞͙̘̦͇͙̺͚̦̰̜̔̾̍̋̾̉̂̐͗̐̽̈̀̍͆͗͆̊͆̄̋̾̕͝͠

_________________

You squint. Another fucking one of these books. But there's a letter, on the desk. You remember your mother put it there, saying it's for you.

You hesitantly crawl over from your bed to the lone letter on your desk. You snatch it up.

The letter says, in perfect cursive writing, with a slight ink blotch on the end, Gavin Ng.

Is it real?

You rip it open, and compare it to your device, and eerily they read the same.

But in the device, there are two things different.

There is a real time narration of your movements.

There is, also, a choice button.

It says,

_D o y o u h e l p h i m?_

**[yes.]**

  
  


**[no.]**

  
  



	7. Abandon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 5

_“You don’t tell me what to do, Jay!”_

_“I won’t allow you.”_

_“Oh yeah? Since when did someone else control what I did?”_

_Jay stills. The air is electric, but Stephen glares with energy brighter and more powerful that the statical lightning that leaps around Jay’s hands._

_Jay closes and opens his eyes frustratingly. “No. Just no. You can’t go.”_

_Stephen scoffs. “Screw you.”_

_“It’s not fucking safe, Steph!”_

_“Neither is just siting here doing nothing!” Stephen flips the statement back at him, from the exact opposite of their room._

_“No,” Jay stresses._

_“I-I don’t care what you think, bastard. I’m going, and no one’s gonna stop me. Least of all_ you _.”_

_Stephen hisses, then stalks away, and slams the door behind him, a faint crack from the said door, and it’s like Stephen’s slammed himself from Jay._

_He doesn’t move from his spot beside the window._

_\--_

_“Jay-Jay, you in there?” Someone knocks at his skull. “Hmm, It looks like it’s hollow.”_

_“Huh?” Jay blinks, looking toward Jo Catalanetto._

_“You haven’t done anything, Jay-Jay.”_

_The cursor blinks at him curiously, maybe because it would usually speed across the screen a line a second._

_Jay purses his lips and says nothing._

_JoCat leans towards him, eyes scanning the holographic phone, typing something rapidly. He then looks toward Jay._

_Jo taps his chin suggestively. “You and Mister Stabby fought?” Sometimes he admired the way he could guess how he was feeling and thinking, but today was probably not one of those days. “You’re frowning slightly and twisting your ring a lot.”_

_“None of your business, Cat.”_

_“It’s_ plenty _my business, Jay-Jay.” Jo slams his phone down and interlocks both hands, resting his chin on their backs, leaning even more towards Jay, who subconsciously also leans backwards._

_“Son of— fine.” Jay blows out the air from his lungs in a single sharp exhale. “Worse. It’s about the spy work._

_“He’s gonna be caught and I probably can’t save him.”_

_“Bro,” Jo says, thoughtfully, “he can take care of himself. You know that.”_

_“Yeah, but—” he immediately brings up a refute._

_“Better than you can take care of yourself. He doesn’t like sitting around. Not like us. Probably that’s the reason Blank only let him learn the basics of coding and us the basics of fighting. He_ can _take care of himself.”_

_Jay shuts his eyes, slumping towards the monitor and the forever blinking cursor. “I know, but I’m still so worried he’s gonna be caught. I rather I went.”_

_“But who else is more suitable? Yeah, not even you.”_

_Jay runs his fingers through his hair._

_“So I think you should just let him go. Even if he would go anyway regardless.”_

_He looks away. “If you say so, Jo.”_

_\--_

_“Blank.”_

_“Stay safe and preferably under the radar.”_

_“Of course._

_“Oh, and bring this hologram to—”_

_"Jay?”_

_“I don’t want to hear his name. But yeah.”_

_“Okay.”_

_A fling of metal the colour of a ring, a wiping of the camera that is installed. A tug of a travelling cape and an AMR jacket that hides underneath._

_“Good Luck, Night.”_

_A pause. “You too, Leader.”_

<>

“F—”

(Don’t swear.)

“Wasn’t going to.”

(Was.)

“I can’t say anything, can I.” Hosuh rubs the bruises, flinching, and he huffs pettily.

It’s nighttime. The canopy of leaves hide them from potential enemies above, but also from the moon that has shrunk to a big speck in the sky. The Forest sways around them as Stephen stalks around their temporary campsite and Hosuh curls into a fetal position, holding his feet in his hands.

“Why are you walking around here?”

(Guarding, obviously. Do you want that thing to jump into you again?) Stephen doesn’t bother to look toward him, instead placing both hands behind him onto a high rock, looking down slightly.

“What was that thing?”

(Nothing sort of a demon. Possession. Taking away the controls of a person’s systems. Demonic possession, alright.)

Hosuh struggles to sit up. He does, eventually.

“You’re telling me that there’s people with superpowers out there, and then demons? What else are you going to tell me?” Hosuh laughs derisively. “That there actually are _animals_ still out here?”

Stephen smirks slightly. (As a matter of fact, yes.)

Hosuh sputters, and Stephen laughs through his mouth.

“What the heck? Hey, don’t avoid the question!” He yells, to which the other teasingly says nothing, instead walking yet again.

(I kinda want to laugh at you, but I’ve got more self-control than you do.)

“Jerk.” Hosuh pouts, and winces at how the vigour makes his wounds ache more.

(Right back at you.

(Yeah, there are animals in the Forest. They weren’t all eliminated by the human race.) Stephen shows casually. (We mutated some of them though.)

The older other stares to the purple incredulously. “Please tell me you made them less vicious and smaller.”

(Nope!) The cheerful tang is definitely there as he peeks through the gaps in the leaves.

(We made them bigger and more survival-instinct-er so that they would attack anyone who’s not familiar in here! And they avoid the villages so maybe that’s why no one’s ever seen them.)

“How big?”

_(Very._ You wouldn’t want to mess with them.)

A scream resounds through the Forest, sounding a little familiar to Hosuh.

“Shouldn’t we help that person?”

(Nah, either it’s a naïve villager who decided to go into a Forest to play, or it’s the AMR.)

“Stephen! It’s still a life!”

(Eh.

(You wanna go and save them with also barely anything?)

“Three is better than one.” Hosuh picks up a strong stick.

(Three means more people for the animal to eat.)

They lapse to silence. Hosuh plays with the stick while Stephen walks the perimeter of their small camp. There’s a faint buzzing noise. It’s proven to be Stephen, his thoughts unregulated, spilling out to telepathy.

“Hey, the Noise.” Hosuh finally says when the buzzing leads to an annoying crescendo, covering his ears.

(Sorry.) The buzzing lowers to nearly nothing.

(I’m not used to speaking all the time through the telepathy. It’s tiring. I kinda have to control it so that not all my thoughts come out as shown words.)

“That’s interesting.”

(Wait till you see us at Sept.)

“Have I told you,” Hosuh says, fringe and bangs falling over his eyes as he tilts his head down to the ground, feet planted on the ground and crossed, him hugging them. “That you look ridiculously pretty?”

He really does, The angle at which he tilts his neck, the moonlight spilling around his figure as he moves, the purple hair the vibrantest shade moving in the gentle wind. The way he curls the corners of his lips at anything remotely funny, and his habit of scuffing up his hair so that it hangs in messy wavy curls in front of his face.

Stephen turns pink and seems to do something busy.

(S—shut up.)

“No, really.” Hosuh coughs out, faintly embarrassed as well.

Stephen just keeps his back on Hosuh.

_Fuck._ Hosuh holds a hand to his face. The skin there was hot, and undoubtedly red as well. _I’m straight. I’m very straight._

_Right?_

“Wha—what do you like doing, Stephen?” Hosuh blurts, the awkwardness thick between them.

(Huh? Like, hobbies?)

“Yeah.”

(Don’t have time for hobbies, honestly. But I kinda like watching old stuff.)

“Old stuff?”

(Blank found some old USB drives. They stored digital stuff, I think, in the past. So I watched them and stuff.)

“But what are they about?”

(There’s a lot. There’s like pretty real movies, but there’s also—cartoonified moving pictures. Big eyes. I think I liked this single one the most when I was younger. _Boku No Hero Academia?_ Something. Cause it’s like us, you know? The superpowers. I guess I just like that.)

“Ah.”

Stephen felt like an old acquaintance, somehow, even when he’d only met him yesterday. Like he’d seen him many many years before. But isn’t that impossible?

Is it?

(You’re familiar.)

“I think you are, too.”

Stephen frowns elegantly at Hosuh, and he is confused by how frowns can be elegant.

“I’m going to bed.”

(And where is your said bed?)

“Idiot. I hate you.”

(Just being commonsensical.)

Then there’s an electric flash.

Hosuh chokes as someone presses his neck to the ground, body weight entirely on his torso. He claws desperately at the hand of steel as Stephen shouts something indecipherable. There’s a flash of red and yellow and a crackle of something. The figure raises a hand that leaps with lightning, and his hair moves with the energy and power of lightning that ripples through the man’s body—

_(Jay!)_ Hosuh barely hears—

A shock goes through his body and it’s like his insides are turned inside out—

The grip is ripped as the man goes stumbling backwards with a headlock and another arm is gripped around the man’s travelling cloak and yanked back from Hosuh, who whimpers on the ground—

(Jay!) Stephen yells, and Hosuh sees him clutch the man from behind, and he places his head on the man’s shoulder. (Jay, I’m okay!)

(I’m okay.)

The crackling stops.

And there’s a barely whispered question. “You are?”

(Yeah.)

The travelling cloak stops rising with electrical energy.

“Thank goodness.” Another whispered sentence.

The man turns and hugs Stephen, leaving Hosuh confused and also extremely fried inside out, trying to wrap his brain around the events.

<>

Dan cradles his hand as he hides under a tree from the Eagle.

<>

Somewhere in the Forest, the dead bodies of three AMR official lies stagnant. They are mutilated in horrible ways, all differently so, but with one similarity. ‘GNG’ spells on their faces, ripped and bloody, but a familiar shade of blue.


	8. Naively Great

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 6

_Dan and Hosuh are like fifteen when Head comes back from whatever he does._

_Hosuh giggles viciously as he flings water from his wet hands at Daniel, who flinches at the water. He declares a dramatic, “Bitch, no,” then flicks the water from his own hands by a graceful twitch of his hands._

_“Don’t play with water, children, you’re fifteen, not five,” Head pops his head between the two, a big mistake, considering how the distance was more than enough in-range for water droplets. He is smacked face-first by water from two different sources. Dan laughs delightedly at the look on Head’s face, and Hosuh touches Head’s nose with a wet finger teasingly, leaving a cold spot._

_“Kids,” Head sighs resignedly. He ruffles both their hair affectionally, something a father would do._

_“Not kids. We’re practically adults, Head.” Hosuh declares._

_“You’ll always be my kids.”_

_“Even if we do anything wrong?”_

_Head suddenly straightens and glares at Dan._

_“What did you do?”_

_Dan waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing, nothing.”_

_“What did you_ do _?”_

_“Remember when you told us not to burn down the kitchen making our own lunch?”_

_“Yes, and—”_

_“Good news, it wasn’t burnt down, but like bad news, there might have been one or two fires or two or three burnt pots—”_

_“Daniel Lim! Hosuh Lee!”_

_They run from a flustered Head, laughing their heads off and catching a whiff of a put out fire._

<>

This time nighttime really falls, and they’re all tired after two attacks in a row. 

Apparently they’re married. Hosuh knows that he should be okay about this, but for some reason he feels annoyed. (Annoyed that Stephen’s already married? Why?) He stiffens when he remembers that Stephen can hear what he thinks.

Stephen can barely spare him a glance, though, because he’s asleep. The man named Jay sleeps beside him on the floor, (Hosuh can barely think this) they’re cuddling in their sleep, in an extent that they look cute together under the night canopy of trees, but the sight brings Hosuh minimal joy.

But it is _cute_ , Hosuh grudgingly admits. 

Hosuh walks and squats beside Stephen. His chest rises and falls in rhythm with his partner beside him, and his breaths are soft and silent. He reaches out a hand and gently brushes away one lock of purple hair from his face. Hosuh smiles at his rare peaceful face, then knows he shouldn’t be there in the state of third-wheeling.

He stands again and walks over to the opening where the sky was visible, then steps through the opening.

He stands in a silent vigil, tilting his head up, closing his eyes. It’s been a crazy day.

“Yeah.”

His eyes snap open.

It’s someone he’s never seen in his life, considering how small his social circle was. It’s a girl, donning simple clothes (a t-shirt and jeans) with a belt, and a simple short travelling cloak is strung around her dainty shoulders. Around her neck a very small pinkish vial is strung, the contents not more than a drop or two of mysterious liquid. 

She grins at his perplexed expression.

“Who’re you?! And how the _heck_ did you find us??”

“Shh, not so loud. You wouldn’t want the animals to find you, would you? Be a good and quiet boy, Hosuh. I saw someone get mauled by one of those just now.” she places a finger on Hosuh’s lips. Her skin is smooth to his lips.

“Who are you?”

“I go by a lot of names, but I’ll let you call me Hailey.” She—Hailey—smiles a wide smile, her gaze a deep purple honey. 

“How did—” 

“I just know a lot of things, Hosuh. Maybe everything. I don’t know how. But in Stephen’s _‘Boku No Hero Academia’_ , maybe you might call it a ‘quirk’. But nothing _quirky_ about my ability.”

Hosuh opens his mouth to ask something, then realises she said she knows everything, then shuts it again.

“Why haven’t you seen me? Well,” she chuckles, “I’m stealthy. Very stealthy.”

“And a note to the readers, all the titles spell something. Kudos to the ones who see the words. If you didn’t know.” She offhandedly says.

“What? What readers?” Hosuh asks the maybe-unhinged girl.

Hailey smiles at you. “Nothing. Just something I have in my head.”

“I—”

“Anything you wanna talk about?” She smiles that photo-shoot bright smile again. 

“Other than you, right?”

“Obviously. This is about _you_.”

“Well, there are multiple things. Including the thing with Head…”

She listened and he talked till his throat stung a little.

“I can’t give you advice, because, as I say, it’s _your_ story.” Hailey beams.

“Oh, whoops, I’ve gotta go, hope you feel better telling me these things! And, Hosuh, as a tip or advice, 

“react on your instincts. Your heart. Sometimes the mind doesn’t see the best route. Sometimes the best route is the more difficult route.

“Hasta luego!”

With that, ‘Hailey’ drops away out of sight, the moment Stephen peers through the leaves.

(Who were you talking to?)

Hosuh, flustered, felt very much that his newly-found friend is private, He crosses his hands behind his back quickly, and nervously he says, “No one.”

(Really? I heard whispering.) Stephen arches a defined eyebrow as he seems to stare right through him.

“Uh, I like to—to talk to myself sometimes, you know?” He bites his lower lip slightly.

(Huh.)

Jay interrupts as he pushes Stephen’s head down to poke his own head through, to the annoyed protests of Stephen.

“We gotta move. No guarantee that the animals won’t attack us, either. I mean, it probably got that guy following me.” Jay says, face serious. “I made a hologram so that he would follow that one. It would have been to the Wall by now.”

“Someone followed you?” Hosuh asks. “What did they look like?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. I couldn’t anyway, or they’ll know that I knew they were following me. Probably someone from AMR. Rid of.”

“Who’s Blank?”

(Not this again—)

“She’s the leader of AMR.”

(Jay.)

Jay shrugs. Hosuh likes him a little more. “Don’t care about rules.”

Stephen grumbles and brings his head up in a sudden movement to hit the underside of Jay’s chin brutally. 

“Ow!”

_(Bitch.)_ Stephen winces as he seems to have bitten his tongue in accident.

“That reminds me.” Jay takes the younger by the chin, prying his lips open to reveal the cut tongue. “I’m gonna kill them. I’m _so_ gonna kill them.”

Hosuh cringes at the gore.

“Kill? Why don’t you, I don’t know, just talk with them, maybe hit them with a few curse words?”

Jay scoffs. “No.”

Hosuh rubs his face exasperatedly. “Violence isn’t always an answer.”

“Sometimes it is.” 

Then Stephen collapses. Jay lunges for him as he slumps and gasps for air, clutching his sides in a convulsive moment. Choking sounds are heard, and Hosuh, shocked, scurries to Stephen, practically dropping to the ground.

“Think something!” Jay yells, sweeping his damp purple hair up his sweaty forehead.

“What’s happened to him?” 

“Seizure, I don’t exactly know, but something like it but it also isn’t exactly that—”

Stephen flops no more, just lies lifelessly on Jay’s lap.

“Stephen, can you hear me?” Hosuh says worriedly, to which he hears zero response. Jay nervously draws something flat and thin and brings it to his forehead. It beeps quietly. Hosuh leans over and it says 37 degrees Celsius. 

“He’s not having a fever. And yeah, he’s alive.”

Hosuh overlooks tensely.

Eventually he opens his eyes.

“How’re you feeling?”

Stephen groans. “Who _are_ you all?”


	9. Dandelion, Poppy, Buttercup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 7

_Anonymous Disease (/əˈnɒnɪməs dɪˈziːz/):_

  
_Man-made disease by Denzer J. Orton, 2116. Is usually in liquid form, not airborne, and has to be injected into the bloodstream._   
_In which the carrier slowly grows weaker and sicker with time, worsening in terms of muscle strength and the absorption of carbohydrates that facilitate energy needed to move. The carrier or victim proceeds to have bouts of memory loss (that is accompanied with pain of various levels), from short frames of a few seconds to a span of a week, until the victim permanently loses all memories of previous happenings, as well as all motor functions, rendering the victim locked in with no recollections._

  
_There is no known cure._

—

  
Stephen’s pretty sick. They can a hundred percent tell. He remembers them after probably five minutes. His breathing is irregular, and when he tries to stand, he collapses, and they have to grab him by the arm and wrists.

“He was fine a second ago!” Hosuh says, as Jay heaves Stephen on his back. Jay frowns and swings Stephen’s arm over his shoulder with an arm. Stephen leans his head on Jay’s shoulder, his eyes closed, breathing uneven and heavy.

Jay pulls on the bandage wrapped round his wrist. “Knowing the situation, Denzer probably spiked his food or something. Son of a—” 

“He’s not like that!” The words burst from his mouth.

Jay opens his eyes. The red and yellow seamlessly blends together and glows like lightning. He speaks from the side of his mouth.

“I’m guessing Stephen picked you up from AMR. I don’t know why he would do that.” The disdain is pronounced in his voice, much harder than it was before he made the comment.

“No, I rescued him from the facility!” 

“Doubt that.”

Jay closes his eyes and speaks no more.

Hosuh has no choice but to follow him. 

<>

They enter a village. One of those near the Forest.

Hosuh cradles a makeshift bag in his arms nervously, as well as a small coin pouch that he hooks loosely in a hand. Stephen can stand now, and he walks unsteadily between him and Jay. Jay swings his bag casually, and he discretely supports his partner with a hand slung around the other’s arm.

The villagers don very villager clothing, t-shirts, pants. Children run hyper around and around the background, and the adults walk through the whole village on their jobs. They approach the market.

“There are stuff in here that are pretty useful for us. Like chemical enchantments. They refused to give both Sept and AMR the formula. But obviously, Sept doesn’t have time to try and steal it. We’re too busy trying to improve the hiding technology from AMR. Also, there are health stuff here, I presume, that can probably help Stephen, so look out for those.”

“There’re a lot of people here, so be careful, y’know? People here hate Sept and AMR officials, and most of them might attack on sight. At least we ridded your AMR jacket.” Stephen says waveringly, his voice catching a little. 

“Okay.” Hosuh’s way too nervous and stressed to say anything more. 

“Meet back at the entrance of the market.”

Stephen and Jay head off another direction. Hosuh gulps, pauses, then goes on his way. 

There are a lot of stalls, a crazy amount, scattered everywhere, differently coloured banners hoisted in the air with block letters spelling various things. Hosuh hurries through. 

He catches some formidably-looking men standing near, and their eyes scan the crowds for something or someones. Hosuh did not like the look of them. He walks with the crowd, stopping at stalls that potentially sold the ‘enchantments’, as Jay had previously stated. There are weapons (why would you need weapons? He wonders. You’re isolated from any enemies-), ornate decorations. 

A flask of bright purple liquid catches his eye. He hovers over to the stall, enclosed in a cosy tent, flap open such that a silver of purple would flash out. He pulls the flap open, looks hesitantly at the probably aggressive men, then ducks into the dark tent.

A man with a hood pans his hands, an eye poking through, a bright shade of pink. 

“What would you like?” His voice is quiet, yet elaborate with flair. A smirk is barely seen from the depths of the hood. 

“Uhhhh…” Hosuh startles. 

“Are there like potions… here, like—”

“You’re not from here. Are you?”

Hosuh panics, crossing his hands behind his back, hurrying, “Uh—”

“Don’t worry.” The mouth visible in the shadow of the hood quirks up. “I won’t tell. I’m not a snitch. You can trust me on that one.”

Hosuh squints at the man, and then squints suspiciously yet again. 

“Well, yes, I have those.” The man says, then carelessly grabs a few glass bottles full of strange liquid and underhands it to his face. Hosuh frantically stretches to catch the bottles, diving down and miraculously saving all the bottles, but frankly sore elbows.

“Hey!” Hosuh yells indignantly. 

‘Just a small joke.” He can hear the laughter in the stranger’s voice. Somehow, he doesn’t feel hurt or annoyed (maybe just a tinge). 

He stretches his hand out, slender fingers extending and unfurling to show a pale wide palm that resembled that of a past pianist. Hosuh glares halfheartedly at the palm, then takes it.

“My name’s Yancy. Pleasure, Hosuh Lee. And also, you don’t have to pay,” the stranger says, as Hosuh draws out Jay’s pouch.

“What? I got your stuff, I should pay. Also, how did you know my name?” Hosuh unties the drawstring, pulling the pouch open.

“Nope. After all, I did make you fall to catch my products.” Yancy laughs delightedly.

Hosuh tries to protest as the other person takes him by the shoulder and pushes him slowly and surely out. 

“Plus,” Yancy grins softly now, “only people with some magical background can find me.”

A last small shove, and he’s suddenly out in the shockingly bright sunlight that glares into his sensitive light-starved eyes. He whirls around, a dissatisfied yell on his lips, fully intending to barge right back into the tent stall and demand payment and about ‘magical background’, but to his utter shock the tent is gone, and in its place is a single small piece of paper wedged under a rock. Hosuh sweeps it up.

The words that are etched steadily in loops only spell the word _‘anonymous’_. 

What. Hosuh blinks. 

Were people always so cryptic? Because it’s getting pretty annoying in his opinion.

Then someone grabs him by his waist, fluidly hoisting Jay’s bag on their arm, then pushing Hosuh himself up onto their shoulder. 

“Run!” Yells Jay from behind Hosuh and Stephen.

“What even _happened?”_ Hosuh has to scream back as Stephen darts through villagers, Hosuh jerked around and almost slamming face first into a lady, but yanked back at the last second. 

“We may have gotten into a fight with some guy and I might have used my power and now we might be chased by the whole village,” Jay calls to Hosuh.

“Get the supernaturals!” some villager shouts with no end to the threat in his voice, and one of the men he’d seen lunges forward, swiping madly, to which with ease and grace Stephen twists his hip, the arms missing him by an inch. Hosuh shrieks as Stephen strikes a villager with a threatening bat, flipping in midair, landing lightly, running still while Jay fires lighting bolts sparingly just to scare them away from their fleeing forms.

“You almost killed me!” Hosuh tries to punch Stephen, but the angle blocks any sort of unwanted aggression from the former. 

Stephen winces. (Can you not shout? My ears are already ringing from the sheer amount of bubbling thoughts there are here.) 

Before Hosuh can shout how is that related to our current situation indignantly, Jay skids and suddenly pulls both to a side, a break in the wall. It’s at the last second that what must be thousands of villagers rush past, screaming for their blood.

Jay pushes both with his arms to hold them against the wall and they barely breathe in the tight space.

The slowest of them run past them.

Hosuh doubles forwards. “What the fuck?” he barely whispers.

“Let’s skitter off, they’re bound to notice that they aren’t chasing anyone anymore.” Jay jumps away from the wall, brushing off his clothes. 

(Fine.) Stephen scouts the area, and he tells them, (Nobody.)

“You got anything? I snagged a few daggers from that man we were fighting with.”

“No wonder—”

“Enchantments? Great. The people who sell them are weird, to be honest.” 

“You deliberately talked over me to change the subject, but okay.”

<>

They loot more villagers, mostly ending up with either Stephen and/or Jay messing something up/ accidently killing someone/ just causing havoc.

“ITS LIKE YOU GUYS WANT TO DIE OR SOMETHING,” Hosuh yells over distorted voices from many many villagers throwing dangerous things and threats at them as they flee.

Jayphen gives identical shit-eating grins while running.

<>

They raid their last village, and the atmosphere is weird.

“Weird.” Jay clarifies as though reading Hosuh’s mind (and Stephen probably heard it so). 

There is a pub they enter. The people there are shady, hoods worn, masks strapped around faces like there was a pandemic. 

Except two people. They seem to draw Hosuh’s eyes even when it does push him away.

Out of them one, a boy, sips on some bright ink bubbly liquid, swigging it with a flick of his wrist, The glass is held loosely with the tips of his fingers, and brown curled locks spill down his forehead to frame his face. The other sweeps their hair into a half ponytail, and lilac dye fades to black. Both wear a gold ring on their ring finger.

The boy shifts his glance to Hosuh, and his gaze burns him for a second before it shifts to Jay and Stephen.

He taps the table once and the other person moves as he does.

The other person moves past them and brushes past them.

Hosuh notices startlingly that ‘knife party’ is embedded into their forearms.

Jay grabs the other two’s hands and he whispers, “Follow them.”

They move out of the pub on the other two’s tails, until they walk out of the village.

That is when the two people turn around and they smirk exactly the same as Stephen and Jay.

“Yo, Eli, Cady.” Jay grins.

“You like dem rings?” Eli waggles his fingers. 

“Atrocious.” Stephen scoffs.

Hosuh blinks.

“Lessgo.” Cady says. “Across the Wall we go.”


End file.
